


A Day Late and A Dollar Short

by SunsetScomiche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (but seriously when is he not), AU, Mechanic!Peter Parker, Mechanic!Tony, Non-famous Tony Stark, Other, Runaway!Bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 03:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17500829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunsetScomiche/pseuds/SunsetScomiche
Summary: So, this work is significantly more than a day late and for that, I apologize. However, better late than never, so, please enjoy.





	A Day Late and A Dollar Short

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LunaInverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaInverse/gifts).



Bruce’s heart is still pulsing a little too heavily for his liking. The stolen jalopy seems to be running fine, however, and Bruce takes a deep breath as he reconsiders the events of the day.

He had just barely pulled up to the run-down looking mechanic shop as the truck had begun its telltale noise-making. With a sinking worry in his gut, he had walked over to the large, open garage doors that framed the darkened workshop. There was rustling, and Bruce’s eyes slowly found a pair of feet sticking out from underneath the side of a car. They were twitching with the movements of the mechanic. Well, at least this guy had no problems getting his hands dirty.

“Hey,” Bruce calls out, hoping to make an impression over the noise. There is a sudden stop in the movement, followed by the loud rolling of small, plastic wheels gritty concrete. The long, dark pants become a stained, red shirt and greasy hair as Bruce is met with-

A kid?

“Hey. ‘Sup?” says the boy - he can’t be more than fourteen - as he squares his shoulders and corrects his stance.

“Uh-“ Bruce answers. He almost wants to say, “Where’s your dad?” but instead he goes with, “My truck just died.”

The kid purses his lips, eyes jumping over to the mess of a vehicle nearby. “Gotcha. Mind rolling it in over here?” he says as he points to the slot beside them.

Bruce raises his brows, but does as he’s asked. He’s sure someone with a license will come out eventually. When he gets the truck into the garage, he steps down and has to roll his shoulders to correct his own back for a moment. The kid comes over and lifts the hood with ease. Bruce watches him and notes the cursive lettering on his tee: “ _Peter_.”

Peter gives the truck an intense look, then pipes up, “Your motor’s blown. Typically takes a few days to fix it, but you’re in luck. I can have you driving out of here in a couple hours.”

Bruce tuts softly. “Listen, son, that’s great and all, but I think I need a real mechanic.”

The flame in the boy’s eyes doesn’t reignite, doesn’t even flicker, it just - clicks off, and his voice becomes soft and short. “Yeah, sure. One sec.” He walks past the car he was working on and opens a door. The room behind it is well-lit and white-tiled, and there’s a tall, blond man with a military stance standing in front of the counter. As Peter steps into the room, Bruce catches the tail end of a conversation.

“Listen, Tony, one more sweep over government lines and they’re gonna have _my_ head and _your_ helmet.”

The door closes and the noises become hushed, but Bruce can still hear them.

“Kid, can’t you just fix it? I’m kind of busy here!”

“I tried, but he won’t let me!”

There’s a gruff sigh that can only be accompanied by an eye roll, and then the same voice returns, only considerably smoother. “They’re not gonna fire you, Rogers. You’re too valuable. Still, I’ll try to be more careful, okay? Have a great day.”

There’s some shuffling before the door opens again, and Bruce watches the kid huff off to his original project. Behind him, another red shirt appears, and the military man turns and leaves, much to Bruce’s relief.

“What seems to be the problem here?” comes the once-smooth voice, now resolute, almost angry. Sure, fine. Bruce can _more_ than play this game.

He sets his eyes on the mechanic; he’s the owner, by the looks of it. Just a thin, wiry guy with strong hands and deepening circles beneath his eyes.

“Look,” Bruce replies, his own voice careful and edged. “I just wanna get back on the road. The kid says my motor’s blown. I’d like for someone with a degree to look at it first.”

“If the kid says it’s your motor,” the owner -  _Tony_ , by his nametag - begins, but from behind him, an annoyed voice calls, “My name’s Peter!”

“-then it’s your motor,” Tony finishes and rests one hand on his hip for good measure. “You wanna be on the road anytime soon, I suggest you start listening to him.”

This is insane. Bruce just stares back at Tony, perplexed and almost alarmed.

“I’ll take a look,” Tony obliges, “but you’re on _my_ rates now, buddy.”

*

An hour later, Bruce stood at the register as _Tony_ tallied up his bill.

“You’re lucky we had the part on hand,” he says, scrawling notes onto a printed spreadsheet. “That’ll be three-hundred and ninety-five dollars.”

“Jesus,” falls from Bruce’s lips in a whisper before he can stop himself. He counts his cash into calloused hands despite himself, but his fingers twitch when he runs out of one’s.

“Three hundred ninety, and one, two, three, four, fi-“

Bruce stops. His eyes flick up to the manager before him. He figures he has about fifteen seconds to decide whether to fight or to flee. _Tony_ might be the runner of a very rundown-looking mechanic shop, but Bruce suspicions that there’s much more to it than that.

“You know what?” the mechanic says, “Forget the change. That truck’s not gonna run for much longer anyway.”

Bruce is still for a moment, judging whether Tony is bluffing. He sees no malice in the man’s eyes, so he turns away and heads for the door.

Then, Tony calls, “Come back if you need something more… illegal.”

Bruce spins to face him, and Tony is wearing a smile as he leans over the counter. Bruce tilts his head to one side. Then he notices a glow of blue at the opening of Tony’s slightly unzipped uniform.

“Uh… thanks,” he answers, then pushes the door open and steps out into the dark.

Driving down the almost endless road hours later, Bruce wonders if Tony really meant it; if he could come there in his time of need, and Tony would fix everything again. He has his doubts, but the thought of it brings him comfort, and he heads deeper into the unknown.

 

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LunaInverse/lunamikk69 as part of the 2018 Science Bros Discord Secret Santa


End file.
